You Are Not Alone
by sheissosherlocked
Summary: John Watson has realised he's fallen in love with the one man who doesn't seem to have the capacity to care for other people. Can he convince Sherlock he doesn't have to be alone?
1. Chapter 1

Crash!

John didn't even look up from his newspaper; he was more than used to Sherlock crashing into the flat at stupid hours in the morning. However it didn't stop him worrying that his flat mate and best friend would get a little overzealous one of these days and John would have to use his surgical skills to put him back together again.

"John" came Sherlock's smooth voice from the kitchen. "It is three am, why on earth are you still awake, go to bed."

John didn't shift his position to face Sherlock, he knew if the consultant detective caught sight of his face it would undo the massive lie that John was about to tell him.

"I couldn't sleep, I had a nightmare" he muttered, "Thought I might as well stay awake"

In truth, John would have given anything to fall asleep, he was exhausted as usual. But he was worried sick about Sherlock when he randomly walked out of the flat with no indication of when he was coming back. John really wished he wouldn't do that, it was beginning to mess up his already out of whack sleeping pattern. He wondered idly whether Sherlock had bought the lie or not but the answer became apparent when his best friend's face appeared inches in front of him and his paper was whipped out of his hands.

Sherlock's face was set, and his eyes were hard with disapproval, John knew in an instant that he hadn't believed a word of that lie, he knew John too well and now he was going to berate him for worrying unnecessarily.

"Much as I appreciate your, uh concern, John, I really am capable of taking care of myself" he said, his face still uncomfortably close to John's.

"I know," John said, leaning back, Sherlock's breath reeked of brandy, he'd been drinking again. "But I wish you'd tell me where you're going when you decide to vanish for the night. I could sleep a lot easier knowing I'm not going to wake up and find out you…" His voice trailed off at the slightly stunned look on Sherlock's face which was replaced a moment later by a slightly stormy look.

"Don't concern yourself about my night time wanderings please, I have enough common sense to not fall onto the train tracks or miss the last tube and end up stuck in Ealing" Sherlock said, walking over to his chair and sinking into it. His eyes were tired and his hair was still damp from the downpour in the street outside, he'd been walking again, John decided, like he usually did when he couldn't sleep. It was becoming more frequent as well, John was beginning to think he was some kind of insomniac.

"Before you ask, I do not have insomnia, nor do I want to get away from you, I simply wish to clear my head" said Sherlock, studying John's face, his silver-grey eyes boring seemingly into his soul, effectively answering John's unasked question. "Now please go to bed before I have to get my harpoon out"

John didn't need telling twice, he knew Sherlock would make good of his threat and he wasn't going to A & E tonight. He bolted out of his chair and hurried towards his room, pausing in the doorway to study Sherlock in his chair, staring into space. Caring about this man would be the death of him, John thought as he closed his bedroom door.


	2. Chapter 2

John wondered why he'd bought an alarm clock at times, living with Sherlock Holmes was like having his own personal wake up call at _half past seven _every morning, without fail, and it was driving John insane. How the hell was Sherlock doing it? He'd not gone to bed until quarter past four, John knew this because he hadn't been able to rest easily until he'd heard Sherlock's door slam because he was convinced Sherlock was going to go wanders again. The down side of this was that John had a grand total of three and a half hours sleep and unlike Sherlock; he was incapable of surviving for days with next to no sleep.

Tugging on a t-shirt and jeans he pushed open the door of his room to see the slender outline of Sherlock as he stood at the window of the Baker Street flat, staring out over London, he was completely and utterly still and peaceful. John didn't like to disturb him when he was like this; it wasn't often that the detective seemed so relaxed; he was usually pacing the flat, his incredible brain working at a hundred miles an hour. This was the Sherlock nobody saw, the one John was privileged enough to get occasional glances of.

"I'm surprised you're awake" said Sherlock suddenly, making John jump since Sherlock hadn't even turned away from the window. "I know you didn't even start to think about falling asleep until I'd gone to bed. You are impossible Watson"

John rolled his eyes at the utter idiocy of this comment but he wasn't in the mood to argue with Sherlock this morning, they were both stressed as it was and John knew he'd storm out if the fight escalated. He wouldn't stay away long though, as independent as Sherlock made himself out to be, John knew he needed looking after, though he would never admit it.

"How's the case going?" John ventured nervously, as Sherlock turned away from the window, his eyes glimmering like they did when he was relaxed, or dare John think it, happy?

"Could be better. However it could be worse. I think I have discovered…possibly." said Sherlock vaguely, not taking his eyes off John as he talked, and his face was slightly distracted. He was thinking about Moriaty again, if John ever got hold of that bastard, well, it wasn't going to be pretty.

"Cup of tea?" John asked, walking into the kitchen, and putting the kettle on, he knew better than to press Sherlock about his case, there was something in his mood recently; something that made John wish Sherlock would just _talk _more.

"That would be nice" said Sherlock, turning back to the window. "Thank you"

John pushed a hand through his hair as he waited for the kettle to boil and let out a low sigh. Something had changed recently, something about _him _and John didn't know what it was.

He knew one thing though, he couldn't bear to see Sherlock all worked up about Moriaty, so alone, and John would almost have said he was scared but Sherlock Holmes was never scared. John pushed the feeling to the back of his mind, if he started worrying about Sherlock again, he'd get another lecture and he really wasn't in the mood.

"The kettle's boiled" said a voice from the other room. "I'm absolutely gasping"

"Stop being a smart arse" he shouted back, a smile curling his lips as he began pouring the tea.

John carried the two cups of tea back into the living room and placed them on the low table. Sherlock had moved during the few minutes John had been making the tea, he was now stood next to the door with his coat and scarf on, intently studying his phone, his eyebrows knitted together. Whatever was going on in this case had clearly put him completely on edge. There was a single dark curl hanging into his eye, and John had the sudden unexpected urge to sweep it out of his face, but he restrained himself, he had no idea how to explain that to Sherlock.

"Where are you going?" John asked, reaching for his own coat in case he was required to go out as well. "I should have made your tea to go"

"Well I thought it was fairly obvious I'm going outside" Sherlock said, not looking up from his phone. "Places to be, but don't think you're throwing that tea out, I can think of several better uses for it"

John tapped his foot in agitation, Sherlock still hadn't actually said where he was going, and it was making him nervous. Something was seriously up with Sherlock, he'd been avoiding telling John anything for the last week at least. John had no idea why it irked him so much but it certainly did so.

"Sherlock?" he tried again, attempting a more authoritarian tone of voice. That got Sherlock's attention, and he looked up, slightly bemused at John stood there with a cup of tea in one hand on and his coat in the other.

"Going somewhere John, I don't remember asking you along" he said, taking the cup out of John's hand and taking a sip, and screwing up his face in annoyance. "Forgive my impertinence but isn't tea normally served hot?"

John gawped at the dark haired man, he couldn't actually believe what he was saying, since when did Sherlock _not _ask John to come along on a case. Unless this wasn't part of the case. Unless he was going after Moriaty, and he was being really stupid going alone if he was.

John instantly didn't want to let him go, he instantly knew there was going to be trouble, Sherlock had a habit of going after people and coming back covered in blood or worse. But John considered the possibility that Sherlock was going to see Molly. And for some reason that made his chest constrict and he winced, he shouldn't feel this way, he couldn't. What the hell was he playing at?

"Sorry about the tea." he muttered, grabbing the cup out of Sherlock's long pale fingers and putting it down on the table. "Are you sure you're okay going on your own?"

Sherlock looked quizzically at John, "I was under the impression you had things to do here. I don't employ a live in to keep going out you know. In any case, I assure you, it isn't anything interesting, nothing to get worked up over" he said, opening the flat door, "But you could meet me for lunch. 12? I'll be in touch"

John nodded, still feeling slightly numb, and all he could manage was a "Take care" before Sherlock had closed the door. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, this wasn't happening, he could feel like this about anyone, and he felt it about Sherlock Holmes, the man who didn't know how to deal with such things as feelings. Even with his genius brain, John didn't think Sherlock would be able to process _this._


	3. Chapter 3

At five o clock that evening, Sherlock had returned home, as punctual and efficient as always. Needless to say he hadn't arranged lunch with John but his entrance back into the flat told John that his old friend was in one of _those_ moods.

Sherlock had stormed back into the flat in a rage, gone into his study, and banged the door shut behind him. John made no effort to follow him, Sherlock kept a gun and his harpoon in that room, and if he wasn't careful, he'd end up on the painful end of one of them. But after half an hour, Sherlock hadn't reappeared, so John decided to go and check he hadn't actually topped himself. He knocked once, briefly.  
>'Sherlock,' he said, softly,pulling the door open a crack, 'You in there?'<br>When no voice shouted at him to shut the door on his way out, he opened the door properly to see Sherlock sat in his chair with his boots up on the desk, scribbling away frantically, he was only working, relief spread through John.  
>He picked his way through piles of paper and books before he reached the desk and tapped Sherlock nervously on the shoulder. Wait, why the hell was he nervous? Sherlock Holmes didn't make him NERVOUS.<br>Sherlock spun round in his chair to survey John over the tips of his interlocked fingers, and fixed him with an enquiring gaze.  
>'Are you alright?' John asked, 'You cancel lunch and storm in like a mad man, that isn't like you'<br>'I would have thought even to an inferior mind, the answer isn't hard to work out.' Sherlock replied. 'I had an unproductive morning and seeing you would have probably aggravated me even more'  
>John didn't react to the hidden jibe, he was used to this, Sherlock didn't mean to upset him.<br>'But I…' he began.  
>'Spent the day reading, classic definitely, it helps you escape but the morning was monotonous so a break with me would have been most welcome. So you were disappointed when I cancelled, concerned even but that's normal. You took the 56 bus and went out, just to remove yourself from the flat. But you soon returned and typed up 4 pages of notes while you waited for me to come back, oh yes and you spilt your coffee. You might want to take care of that. Am I correct John?' said Sherlock without even breaking his gaze.<br>'As always' John said, with a sigh, 'but you don't have to do that. You don't need to impress me. You've never needed to impress me.'

He regretted saying that at once, as if he needed to give Sherlock any more hints, for gods sakes, the man wouldn't know feelings like this if they put on a deer stalker hat and danced the conga in front of him. John felt himself shaking, he'd probably done it this time, he knew one of these days he'd push it a step to far.

He made a move to go out of the room, thinking he'd pour himself a stiff brandy and finish up those notes, that'd distract him but before he'd made more than two steps towards the door, Sherlock called him back, his eyes almost glowing, it was slightly unnerving.

"Come over here" he said, gesturing for John to come and stand next to the desk. John moved unwillingly, wary of what on earth Sherlock was going to do now. What he did do, took John completely by surprise. Wordlessly, he stretched out his hand and clasped one of John's still shaking ones, it might as well have sent electric currents shooting through his fingers, it was all the Doctor could do to keep himself from gasping at the contact.

"You're shaking" said Sherlock quietly, "Why are you shaking? Are you going to have some kind of seizure or are there some Arctic conditions I am unaware of"

John didn't answer, the feeling of that silken skin touching his was occupying most of the thinking space in his brain, he registered vaguely after a moment that Sherlock probably wanted an answer, he tried to construct one quickly, cursing the fact that Sherlock's brilliant mind could see through any of his stories.

"Just feeling a bit off. Need to eat something, I might go and put dinner on now" he said, presuming Sherlock would instantly let go of his hand immediately so he could control himself. But to his bemusement, Sherlock didn't let go for a minute, he simply traced circles over the back of John's hand for a moment before gently releasing it, his manner completely back to normal.

"Try not to take to long," he said turning back to his work. "And I like my food well done, not incinerated, I know your cooking John"

John didn't even attempt to start making the dinner, knowing him; he'd probably burn it, as if he could concentrate after that encounter with Sherlock. He wished that he could have just one tiny glimpse of what went on in that brilliant mind, whether or not Sherlock knew he could make John shake, just by fixing him with one stare from those astonishing silver eyes. John was surprised he wasn't having heart palpitations after Sherlock had taken hold of his hands.

So instead of making the dinner, John went and stood in Sherlock's normal position by the window, staring out over Baker Street, trying to decipher what on earth had just happened, but nothing seemed to fit, nothing seemed to remotely make sense. For one moment in there, he'd convinced himself Sherlock might have wanted him too, but that was probably the most irrational thought John had ever had, what would brilliant Sherlock Holmes want with boring little old him, hell the man didn't seem to know how to act around people let alone let himself get close to them. John was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't notice the study door slam behind him and didn't realise that Sherlock was stood behind him until he felt hot breath on his neck.

John whipped round in alarm; he was not expecting to find his closest friend stood behind him like a statue, just watching him.

"Jesus" said John, "You really need to stop doing that, you scared the life out of me"

Sherlock didn't answer for a moment; he simply stayed watching John, his expression unreadable as always. It didn't faze John, he was used to it. Sherlock would talk in his own good time.

"I'm alone John" he said, with some kind of finality. "I have always felt this way"

John stared at him, his heart beating very fast, this wasn't a side of Sherlock, he'd seen before, this was his vulnerable side, that nobody, not even John got to see.

"You're not alone" he replied quietly. "You have me"

"I am Sherlock Holmes, I don't need anyone, I don't need friends. I am content this way" Sherlock said as though he hadn't heard what John had said. "But I feel cold, and I don't want to feel cold any more"

John didn't know how to respond to this, he simply stood, eyeing Sherlock, trying to read his face.

"I need to try something." Sherlock said. "They say normal people do it, they say it helps"

And he took a single step forward, closed the gap between the two of them and slowly, hesitantly, wrapped his arms, around John, his touch lighting up every nerve in John's body as though it had been sparked with electricity. John tried to control his breathing as he, even more carefully and slowly than Sherlock, enclosed the other man in his arms, marvelling at the sharp contours of his ribs underneath his jacket, feeling the shiver as his arms came into contact with his spine. This was possibly the most wonderful feeling in the world, John had decided that now. But he knew Sherlock was still tense, he had no idea what to do with himself.

"Relax" John whispered, "You're over thinking it"

With these words he tightened his arms, pulling Sherlock towards him, hoping that he could show Sherlock by means of his touch that this was one thing his complex brain didn't have to analyse. To his surprise, Sherlock responded, so that John's head was resting in the crook of his neck because there no two ways about it, John Watson was a good head shorter than Sherlock.

John really didn't know what to do next, except control his breathing and keep hold of Sherlock, but he didn't have long to think, a second later, the pressure vanished and Sherlock had moved past him to look out of the window, leaving John to attempt to stop the tears pooling in his eyes. So apparently Sherlock Holmes did feel these things like normal human beings, but unlike normal human beings Sherlock was scared, scared of these feelings and John didn't know how much longer he could stand it.


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlock was sulking, John knew it from the way he stood in the corner of the flat and played his violin, which wouldn't bother John so much if he wasn't doing it at five in the morning. This resulted in John being incredibly grumpy from lack of sleep and he'd yelled at Sherlock and stormed out twice in a week, it was driving him slowly insane, especially since he knew he couldn't stay away from the dark haired detective, there was that something about him that kept John running back.

It was about a week after the whole unnerving encounter and John had finally dozed off on the sofa, he assumed Sherlock must have gone out because there was no sound of mournful violin music coming from Sherlock's room. John was glad of this, if he hadn't slept, he'd have fainted the next time he tried to walk down the stairs. He'd just nodded off, when he felt a hand shake his shoulder, roughly.

"Mphh" he said, opening his eyes blearily, and sitting up. "Oh, its you."

Sherlock had come back and was sat on the edge of the sofa, frowning at John, his eyebrows knitting together, he looked concerned, an emotion John wasn't used to seeing on his face.

"It's the middle of the day John" he said, "Why are you asleep?"

John rolled his eyes, "I'm sure the brilliant Sherlock Holmes can work it out" he said, aware his voice was dripping with sarcasm. "You, playing violin at five in the bloody morning. I've not exactly been having the best nights sleep recently"

'That and I've been thinking about you and what on earth you're thinking about and how you feel about me' he added privately to himself.

"I must explain" said Sherlock abruptly, "Mycroft and I, caring is not something that comes naturally to us. I guess it must be in my genetics. I don't know. Its one of the few things I _don't _know."

"So last week, what was that about?" John asked, biting his lip.

Sherlock didn't answer at once; he seemed to consider the question.

"Even if I don't know how I should care for people, I am not oblivious to when someone cares about another. Staying up until four am to check I've not dropped off the face of the planet, shaking in the extremities, storming out and then coming back an hour later. I am not blind nor a fool John" Sherlock said, looking deep into John's eyes, making a blush creep into his cheeks.

"Still doesn't explain what you did" he said stubbornly.

"I don't have friends. I just have you." said Sherlock, calmly, "I don't _need _anyone else. I want to know how to feel the same way"

John felt like crying, as awkward and messy as that had been; Sherlock had possibly just admitted he had feelings like everyone else.

"Lean on me" said John quickly; dropping his eyes to the floor, as much as he cared for this man, he was still slightly scared of him.

"Do what?" Sherlock almost snapped. John felt like screaming, was he going to have to teach Sherlock to do everything. He sighed, and gently caught Sherlock's head, weaving his fingers into his hair and lowering it so it was laid on John's shoulder. He could feel Sherlock's heartbeat, hear his shallow breathing.

Then he did something he would never have dared to do before, he dropped a kiss onto the dark curls and whispered 'its fine, don't fight it seriously, I'm still the same old Watson'

What he didn't expect was to hear the reply. "I know. Please, don't move.'

Was Sherlock having a laugh, messing with his head? John thought numbly, trying to concentrate on something, anything other than the feeling of having Sherlock so close to him, physically and emotionally.

"Don't worry," he said gently, running a hand through the dark curls. "I'm not going anywhere, until you tell me to go" He waited to see what Sherlock's response was going to be, mostly expecting Sherlock to storm out and do whatever the hell he did when he vanished from Baker Street.

"Don't be absurd" came the muffled reply. "I would not tell you to go. You make me feel, dare I say it…normal'

"You're not normal," John laughed, he found it funny that this was the one thing Sherlock seemed to not to be able to wrap his head around. "Hell, you'll never be normal. But don't go trying to be, its what makes me…" He cut off, mid sentence and resumed the stroking of Sherlock's hair, praying with every inch of him that the issue was not going to be pushed further. Now was not the time to be admitting to Sherlock how strongly he actually felt.

"Are you tired John? Sherlock asked, sitting up, but not moving away from John, not by a centimetre. "You look exhausted, I keep forgetting how much sleep you need"

"I am a little" said John, yawning in spite of himself, sleeping was the last thing he felt like doing right now. "And Molly called while you were out by the way, you might want to call her back"

"She can wait," said Sherlock dismissively, placing one hand on John's shoulder, slightly awkwardly. "This is _much _more interesting. Having John Watson show me how to do something is intriguing, I'm surprised you haven't punched me yet"

John shook his head, forcing himself not to smile, much as this frustrated him, he found what Sherlock was doing slightly adorable and he was going to work it to his best advantage.

"Well, lets start with the basics" he said shyly. "Move your bloody hand, seriously" With that he grasped Sherlock's hand in his and moved it to his waist, snaking it round, feeling fireworks erupt in his stomach. "And relax, I keep telling you, don't overthink this."

Sherlock didn't say anything, he didn't have to, John knew he was enjoying this as much as him, by the way his eyes almost seemed to shimmer slightly in the dull light. But the truth was, John was very very tired. He desperately needed a decent sleep. He experimentally laid his head on Sherlock's shoulder and when he didn't find himself sat on the wooden floor, he relaxed properly, letting his eyes droop shut, he could quite happily fall asleep right now and never wake up again.

"I do need to sleep," he said, pausing slightly. "Promise I'm not going to wake up and find you gone. I'd hate to think all this was for nothing.

"I can't physically move anyway without waking you up" said Sherlock, "But tell me, is there a normal exchange before sleep, something I should know about, I wouldn't want to appear rude"

John jerked his head up and took a deep shuddering breath, he was playing with fire, or more accurately, playing with ice in this case.

"Yes" he said softly. "Kiss me"


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey. I'm surprised so many of you have subscribed/favourited this. I hope its okay and you're all enjoying it. :) Please review! I 'd love to know how I'm doing. Enjoy!**

He knew instantly that this was a bad move, but he didn't want to throw away such a chance as this. For all he knew, they'd wake up tomorrow and Sherlock would pretend none of this had ever happened, moreover John was expecting this to happen. He examined the look on Sherlock's face and he looked almost ashamed, this puzzled John, what was he playing at now?

"I don't know how" Sherlock said, not quite meeting John's eyes. "I don't do relationships because I'm married to my work."

Some of the hurt that John suddenly felt must have shown in his face, because Sherlock instantly started back tracking, his face screwed up in confusion.

"You misunderstand as always John" he said cooly, "Its not that I don't want to. Its that I'm worried I'll be a disapointment to you."

John sighed, his stomach felt like it would erupt with butterflies if he didn't do something soon.

"Just don't think about it," he said, "Hold still, Doctors orders, this'll be good for you" With these words he caught hold of the side of Sherlock's face and pulled it to his own, pressing his lips onto Sherlock's enclosing them, trying to coax a response out of him. But he was resisting it, John could feel the tension so he pulled back and ran his fingers lightly over Sherlock's lips, wishing this beautiful amazing man would relax for just five minutes.

"Don't fight it, just go with your instincts, I promise you won't be a disapointment, you are doing fantastically well, all things considered, typical Sherlock Holmes" John said, grumbling 's face lit up with a warm smile, his eyes still glowing.

"Of course I am. I'm brilliant" he said, his normal arrogance returning, but John wasn't going to let him get away with it that easily.

"Lets try that again" he whispered, "Just enjoy yourself"

This time, when John kissed Sherlock, he responded, hesitantly at first, moving his lips against John's almost anxiously, but after a few moments, he completely relaxed, and his instincts kicked in, his kisses becoming deeper and more passionate, his hands locking around John who responded by knotting his own hands into Sherlock's hair. After a few minutes of this, John slipped his tongue into Sherlock's mouth, experimenting with the feelings it provoked in him, and it was bloody amazing. Then, he wasn't in control any more, Sherlock was fighting him for control of the kiss, and after a few seconds, John gave up fighting back and let the other man have his fun, and that was even better than he'd expected.

After god knows how long, John collapsed backwards, for someone who didn't know what he was doing, Sherlock had some impressive skills in the kissing department, John would happily have kept experimenting all night but he really was tired.

"I'm going to sleep now" he said in Sherlock's ear, making to get up and go to bed but he was pleasently surprised when Sherlock pulled him back down so John was curled up in his lap and that was more comfortable than any bed.

"I promised I'd be here when you woke up, and I will be" Sherlock said, dropping a single kiss onto John's forehead. "Sleep well"

John had never been so scared in his life, he was falling, falling faster and faster, out of control, the desert floor seeming to fly up towards him, he was going to die, and the only thought that penetrated his fear was, 'Sherlock'. That same name, spinning round in his head, at least if he was going to die, he would die thinking of the most wonderful man in the world…

'John, John, wake up!' came an alarmed voice from nowhere. John opened his eyes only to discover he was still very much alive, lying on the sofa in the Baker Street flat, shivering uncontrollably but dripping in sweat. He turned to look up, and saw Sherlock's terrified face staring down at him, he'd forgotten he'd fallen asleep in his lap.  
>'God, I'm so sorry' said John, sitting up and stretching, blinking to get the sleep out of his eyes. 'What was I shouting?<br>"My name" said Sherlock softly, "And,'I don't want to die,' were you dreaming about Afghanistan again?"  
>John nodded, slightly embarrassed, 'Sorry I worried you' he muttered.<br>Sherlock smiled almost to himself then dropped a single very sweet kiss onto John's mouth.  
>'Did I get it right?' he asked, amusement playing round his features at John's expression which probably resembled a goldfish.<br>John shook his head, 'No,' he said in mock-serious tones. 'That was not long enough for my liking' he smiled up at his best friend innocently, this was one mind game that John was confident of winning.  
>'That was precisely long enough to be going on with, don't you think? Don't want to ruin your appetite,I can feel your heartbeat John, and I know enough that it wouldn't have stopped there' Sherlock said, his face the picture of concentration.<p>

'FINE' said John, 'Let's see how you enjoy this then you dick' He swiftly ducked his head and began quickly nipping at Sherlock's neck with his teeth, from his collar bone to his ear lobe, pausing every now and then to suck gently on the soft skin, amusing himself with the fact he'd probably leave marks, then he stopped, smiled wickedly down at Sherlock, flicked his tongue lightly over his ear lobe and then stood up and went to get a shower, this was way too much fun, the look on the detective's face was something John wanted to see much more often…

After a fairly rapid shower, John walked back into the front room and had barely sat down opposite Sherlock before Sherlock was inches away from his face. He looked absolutely ravenous, his eyes hard and his face filled with desire. He crushed his lips onto John's taking him completely by surprise, running his hands through John's hair as he kissed him with some kind of desperation, almost falling on top of him in his haste,causing John to cry out in pain as a sharp object in Sherlock's pocket came into contact with his thigh.  
>'I forgot about that!' said Sherlock, jumping up and relieving the pressure on John's leg, 'God I'm sorry'<br>But just as Sherlock bent to kiss John again, his phone vibrated in his pocket, and he sighed as he answered it.  
>'Lestrade' he said, straightening up. 'He needs to see me as soon as possible, we better go John. And for gods sake, TRY not to be so appealing if you don't mind'<p> 


	6. Chapter 6

**Well hello my lovely people. Since I'm in such a good mood I'm going to upload two chapters tonight. ;D **

**Enjoy the first one!**

John turned round and grinned at Sherlock, secretly pleased that Sherlock Holmes found him so appealing.  
>'I'll do my best' he said, flicking his tongue over his lips, knowing full well it was going to cause Sherlock's feelings to go into overdrive. The detective, his detective, as John labelled him inside his head, sent a vicious glare his way, and let out a low hiss of frustration. John peered up at him innocently, and bolted for the door as the hiss turned into a growl. But a smirk was fixed firmly onto his face as he sped down the stairs.<p>

***  
>'John,' came a voice, jerking John out of his daydreams. He looked up, feeling slightly bemused, he and Sherlock had been sat side by side in Lestrade's office for well over half an hour while Sherlock argued with Lestrade about why he was wrong. As always, every time they ended up in this office. Of course for the first 5 minutes, John enjoyed seeing Sherlock completely fired up, eyes blazing as he argued his point, he was right, of course he was but after that first few minutes, John zoned out, he was still tired.<br>'We're leaving now,' said Sherlock standing up.

'Please tell Anderson if he WANTS his promotion any time soon, he best agree to work with me on this case. Goodbye Lestrade'  
>'Bye Greg' John said, giving Lestrade a hurried smile and following Sherlock out of the office.<br>John decided it was time to have a little bit more fun, he hurried along beside Sherlock, moving his hand onto the small of his companion's back. Not breaking stride once, and not letting a single smirk cross his face, he moved his hand down, slowly, knowing full well Sherlock couldn't react since they were in the middle of New Scotland Yard. He was struggling not to laugh as Sherlock grew tense next to him and finally gave in and slapped his hand away. John was satisfied that he could wind the detective up so much.

"Are you incapable of behaving yourself?" Sherlock said, his voice full of barely disguised desire. "For five minutes, can you PLEASE act like that small minded man you seem to be so good at pretending to be"  
>John rolled his eyes at the dig at his inferior intelligence and leaned back in the seat of the taxi cab. He knew Sherlock was going to get revenge.<br>Suddenly, Sherlock was sat right next to him, his breath hot on John's neck.  
>'Behave' he whispered, leaning so close to John that he could almost taste the mints on his breath. Sherlock softly pulled out his tongue and ran it over John's lip, sending shivers through him and causing his mouth to pucker automatically.<br>'Oh no' said Sherlock leaning backwards and smoothing his fingers over John's mouth and up towards his ear. Sherlock was getting way too good at getting his own back.  
>Overcome with desperation, John grabbed Sherlock's hair and pulled him towards him, crashing their lips together and letting out a soft sigh, falling into the kiss just as Sherlock did the same.<br>The two were so engrossed in each other, their limbs tangling together that they didn't notice the dark haired figure on the street corner, camera phone clasped in her perfectly manicured fingers.

John pretty much dragged Sherlock out of the taxi, only realising when they reached the front door of 221B, that he'd have to detach himself from Sherlock's mouth in order to unlock the front door. He half-heartedly batted Sherlock away from his neck while he fumbled for his keys, distractions were not what he needed at the moment.

Suddenly the pressure was gone from his neck, and Sherlock was frowning at something in the middle distance, something that either wasn't there or John had missed, he stopped midway through opening the door and looked at Sherlock curiously.

'We're being watched. Someone was there, they're gone now obviously, but WHY?' Sherlock answered John's unasked question. John didn't bother asking how Sherlock knew this, as far as he was concerned, he didn't care for explainations much at the moment, he just wanted to get inside. He yanked on Sherlock's hand and pulled him sharply through the front door which took surprisingly little effort. Just as John stopped to press a kiss to Sherlock's lips, a voice floated down the hallway.

'Boys' said Mrs Hudson, 'What on earth are you doing?'

John instinctively jumped backwards, away from Sherlock, but to his surprise, Sherlock's arms remained firmly attached to his waist, no trace of shame in his face.

'Ah, you two are so lovely' she smiled fondly at them, 'I'm just going to the shops, do you want anything?'

'No thankyou,' said John, a ghost of a smile gracing his lips.

John had to admit, he preferred this new set up when Sherlock was working, they no longer sat opposite each other in separate armchairs, John was now curled contentedly in Sherlock's lap while he worked, he hoped he wasn't being a distraction but Sherlock seemed distinctly wound up about the fact someone had been watching them, he appeared to be mentally tying himself into knots, trying to work it out.  
>'I need to think' Sherlock said, suddenly breaking the silence. 'And you're distracting me. He lightly squeezed John's waist'<br>'Do you want me to go out?' he asked, standing up.  
>'If you don't mind,' said Sherlock softly, 'I'm sorry'<br>John pressed a single kiss to Sherlock's temple, grabbed his coat and walked out of the door.

Sherlock didn't move for a few moments after John left the room. She'd walk in soon, he gave it five minutes. She wasn't about to hang around. The Woman. The seconds ticked over in his head, waiting. After precisely 5 minutes had passed, the door clicked open, Sherlock turned round and stood up, no surprise crossing his face as Irene walked in, he didn't flinch. He'd been expecting it.  
>'What are you going to do with those pictures if I don't give you what you want?' he asked bluntly, his mind still full of John.<br>'Oh. Skipping the pleasantries are we?' she asked, walking towards him and running a hand over the smooth curve of his cheek. 'I'll give them to Moriaty or Lestrade. I haven't quite decided' She let out a cat like hiss in his ear. 'It'll completely destroy you'  
>Sherlock's mind was running at a dizzying speed, she knew what she wanted, he also knew he wasn't going to give it to her. But if this got out. John might as well say goodbye to any further army career.<br>'I know what you want.' he said, softly. 'I can feel your heartbeat. I know WHY you want it. Do you really find me THAT irresistible'  
>She was far too close to him now, the smell that rolled off her made his nostrils burn, he yearned for the safe, woody smell of John Watson. It kept him grounded, made him feel, well...normal.<br>Irene curved her hands over his shoulders, forcing him backwards onto the sofa. Sherlock was completely detached from her advances, his mind was whirring, trying to figure out what she WANTED.  
>'I know you need him.' she whispered in his ear. 'But you want someone, more on your...level'<p>

John was only 2 minutes away from the flat when he realised he'd forgotten his phone, surely Sherlock wouldn't mind if he popped back up for it. When he reached the flat, he realised the door was open, funny that, he was sure he'd closed it.  
>'Sherlock' he called, pushing the door open, 'I forgot my...'<br>The scene that met his eyes, made him freeze, his face contorting at the sight of HER. Irene Adler, stroking Sherlock's face, her lips inches away from his, he didn't appear to be putting up a fight.  
>'Shit' he said quietly. 'Sherlock, what the hell..'<br>His chest contracted and tears jumped into his eyes as he tried to figure out what was going on.  
>'God, please no' his voice trembled as he watched them, watched Sherlock's eyes grow wide in shock as he pushed Irene away from him.<br>'John, John, wait' he began, attempting to get up.  
>'No,' John repeated, 'Don't..'<br>And he bolted away, heart wrenching sobs pouring out of him, he couldn't think of anything but the firey jealousy of THEM together.


	7. Chapter 7

John ran. Ran like him and Sherlock always ran, he wasn't crying any more, his body was simply racked with pure anger. But in the bottom of his heart he'd been expecting it. It had only been a matter of time before 'The Woman' was back in their life again and Sherlock had reacted just as John had expected him to, because Irene Adler was the only person who could match Sherlock's intelligence and John had been a fool to assume that Sherlock would choose him over her.

He stopped running, he'd reached the park. He had nowhere to go, except to Sarah's, but he felt racked with guilt about going back there. He'd left her when he realised how strong his feelings were. And he wasn't going back to her now. Then, he realised his limp was back, he slowed his pace to a walk, cursing himself for letting himself become sentimental about Sherlock Fucking Holmes.

John sat down on a bench, breathing heavily, before he realised he had a message on his phone. He fished it out of his pocket and consulted the screen.

'Sorry. Come back before I come looking for you? SH'

John ignored it, and put his phone away, crossing his arms defensively across his chest. He wondered how long it would take Sherlock to tear himself away from Irene and come looking for him, he didn't give it any less than 20 minutes.

So 10 minutes later, he was surprised when Sherlock came strolling up to him, his curls matted and tangled by the wind, his face expressionless, but his eyes were burning, if John wasn't a logical man, he would have said sparks could have flown out of them.

'Nice time with ms adler?' John said, examining his feet.

'It wasn't how it looked. She is a snake, she suffocates people. She knows how to make them dance for her' Sherlock said, sitting down beside John.

'Oh yeah. And she made you dance by jumping into bed with you' John asked sarcastically.

'No' said Sherlock coldly. 'She threatened you. Well no, she threatened us, but she can't hurt me'

'How?' asked John, finally looking up at Sherlock.

'Pictures. Of us. That could threaten your army career if you ever wanted to go back. I don't care what the world thinks of me. But I can see in your face that you care what people think'

'This relationship we have is weird enough as it is' John said grumpily 'What is she, your bit on the side?'

'She means NOTHING to me' said Sherlock steadily.

'And what about me? Is all this some kind of experiment' John asked, he hated doing this but he was hurting and projecting some of it onto Sherlock made him feel a little better.

'No' said Sherlock, emotion showing in his face for the first time. He pulled John's face closer to him and locked their mouths together, John tried to fight it, tried to stay angry but he couldn't do it, he sighed and let himself melt into the kiss.

Sherlock pulled away momentarily and looked at John.

'I don't know what love is meant to feel like. But I'd hazard a guess that it might be...' He began before John interrupted him by kissing him softly.

'You know what you're meant to say' he said after a moment. 'So try it again' He could barely suppress a grin as he watched Sherlock frown furiously.

'I love you John' he said slowly, but with a tenderness which made John absolutely sure he was serious.

'Well done,' John breathed in his ear. 'I love you too'

And then they were kissing more passionately than ever, not caring who was watching. Neither of them wanted it to end, but John broke the kiss with a small smile.

'You're still in trouble you know' he said, winding an arm round Sherlock's waist. 'About that woman in our flat.'

'I know' Sherlock said, looking sheepish. 'Let's go and deal with this little problem'.

John didn't particularly want to go and confront The Woman. He would have been more than happy to just curl up on the park bench with Sherlock all day. And just be together. Sherlock Holmes actually loved him. The man who was a self declared sociopath actually admitted he had feelings.

'John' said Sherlock sharply, snapping his fingers in front of John's face. 'Now. Hurry up.'

John sighed, he knew he'd have to put up with a lot of grumpy Sherlock to see a little bit of 'his' Sherlock and that was fine by him, the other side of Sherlock was worth it.

He realised, to his surprise that the psychosomatic pain in his leg had vanished now he was close to Sherlock again. They could have easily walked back to Baker Street but Sherlock insisted they take a cab, and the mood he was in at the moment, John thought it best not to argue with him.

Sherlock pushed the door of 221B open and strode into the room, John only a couple of steps behind him, to find Irene still seated on the couch, a knowing smile playing about her lips, her legs crossed as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

'Get out' said Sherlock coldly. 'Take your pictures and get out of my flat. Your little game is up'

He was glaring at her so viciously, that it made John eternally grateful that he was never on the receiving end of Sherlock's anger.

'You'll get yourself into trouble one of these days, without my help' she said, standing up and facing the two men. John's overwhelming instinct was to physically remove her from the room.

'Alone protects me' she said, not taking her eyes from Sherlock's face. 'You'll get hurt you know. He'll just go running back to her, the little...'

'Shut up' said John, his fists shaking. 'Shut up and get out. I don't care what you think. Just leave us alone'

'Your little pet obviously doesn't want me here' she said cooly. She walked to the door and yanked it open, her eyes still not leaving Sherlock's. 'But,' she paused, leaning against the doorframe. 'Moriaty. He could have some fun with this. Bye boys' She slammed the door, and vanished from sight.

'Thank god she's gone' John said, standing very close to Sherlock and snaking his arm round his waist. 'Are you okay?'

'What?' Said Sherlock, kissing John's hair absently, he was obviously thinking of something important. 'Yes. No. Was she right? Am I going to get hurt?'

John gaped at him.

'I love you' he said simply. 'That should explain it.

'I know.' said Sherlock, snapping out of his thoughts. 'I'm sorry. I'm still not used to this.'

He took a look at John and then slapped his forehead in frustration.

'Your nightmare. You didn't sleep well. Go to bed' he said, his voice full of compassion. 'No I mean it John, please, you need to sleep.'

'And what are you going to do?' John asked, stifling a yawn.

'Read. Let Lestrade know Irene's with Moriaty and check on you' he said, 'Seriously. Go.'


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry this is a bit of a short one. Its kind of a filler for the next one which has been written by my gorgeously talented friend. **

**I hope you enjoy it. & it also means I'll have to change the rating!**

John's eyes flew open in a panic. The flat was deserted and silent. That was really odd, he thought to himself, he was sure Sherlock hadn't gone to bed yet. He made to walk towards the door, going to check on Sherlock he decided. That's when he became aware of the unnecessary number of layers he had on, then John remembered, he'd fallen asleep in his clothes. That explained it at least. He took another two steps towards the door before he realised he'd left his jacket on, that was rather annoying. He tugged it off and gasped as he took in the explosives that were attached to him, enough to demolish a building, he'd been here before, it was bloody Moriaty again, he'd been in the flat. Oh god, what had he done to Sherlock. John's initial instinct was to stay perfectly still but he had to check on Sherlock so he made the best of a hopeless situation.

'Sherlock?' he called, trying to disguise the panic that was rising in his chest. 'Are you okay?' There was no reply for several long moments, this was really scaring John. He knew better than to move again, he had no idea what could trigger this packet of dynamite to go off. He wasn't even risking it. He yelled again, praying someone would answer, but no-one did.

Suddenly the door of his room swung open. And there was his Sherlock, his angel. His eyes hard with anger.

'Thank god you're okay,' John said. 'I think Moriaty's been in here again'

Sherlock shook his head silently, his eyes narrowing in concentration.

John threw up his hands in disbelief.

'Great. So there's more than one mad super criminal running after us.' he said, eyeing Sherlock nervously. 'Help me with this could you? I don't want to set it off'

Sherlock didn't move to help him, he slowly shook his head and began to walk towards the door.

'Call Lestrade!' yelled John in terror, 'Just do SOMETHING please'

'You'll be fine until morning' said Sherlock dismissively, not turning round.

'SHERLOCK' John, yelled. 'You said..you said you loved me'

Sherlock froze at the door, his whole frame stiffened.

'No.' he said, turning to John at last and his eyes seemed dead, all the emotion gone from them. 'As usual, your inferior mind is much mistaken' And he was gone. And John was dying, his chest was contracting, a countdown started, the explosives, they were going to bring down the entire of Baker Street. In desperation, John began trying to pull the bombs off him but it made no difference as blackness engulfed his vision and he dropped to the floor.

John sat bolt upright in bed, tears coursing down his cheeks, shivers taking hold of every part of his body. So this was his worst nightmare now, he was more scared of losing Sherlock than he was of dying. He didn't even attempt to stem the flow of tears as he stumbled out of his room and into the kitchen to get a glass of water and in only his pyjama bottoms, gasped as the cold night air hit his skin.

He blundered around in the dark, trying to find a glass, proceeding to upset most of the cups in the cupboard.

'Shit' he groaned, leaning against the counter. 'Buggering hell'

A light flickered on behind him, making him blink in its harsh glare.

'John. What are you doing?' said Sherlock's voice. John spun around, fully aware that he looked a mess and he was still shaking. And he collapsed against Sherlock, as the detective's arms wound around him and pulled them both down so they were sat on the floor. For a few moments, Sherlock held John until the tears turned into gulps, and he was able to speak

'Sorry.' he gasped. 'The nightmares. You didn't want me.'

Sherlock's eyes narrowed just as they had done in John's nightmare and John flinched.

'What does go on in your little mind?' he asked, his voice lowering almost to a growl. Sherlock pushed hard against John and they stumbled onto the floor John was on his back, pinned there by the strength of Sherlock's arms and the passion of his kisses which John returned with equal enthusiasm. As Sherlock's hand began to inch towards John's trousers, John whispered in his ear, 'Bit seedy isn't it? On the kitchen floor. Thought you had more class'

Sherlock's face split into a grin as he grabbed John's hand and began to pull him slightly roughly up to stand. Sherlock pushed John's back against the kitchen sides and pushed himself against him. Their crotches met, Sherlock looked into John's eyes "In interests of maintaining class... I suppose you prefer up against the counter instead."


	9. Chapter 9

**A little treat for you all :) this chapter is written entirely by my fantastic friend Oscar Leogere and all credit goes to him because I'm shit at writing this kinda thing. ;D Please give him lots of lovely reviews. mwah. ;D**

Watson looked nervously at Sherlock. He could feel Sherlock pressing against him, and he leant backwards slightly while pushing his hips against Sherlock's. Sherlock pulled Watson upright. And pushed his other down and placed it onto Watson's firmness.

Sherlock moved into kiss Watson and Watson reciprocated moving his hands around Sherlock's waist. Watson let out a light moan as Sherlock squeezed his crotch. Sherlock unbuttoned Watson's pyjama's fronts and slipped his hand into them. Feeling the warmth and hardness in his hand he began to slowly move his hand up and down.

Watson placed one hand on the back of Sherlock's head and moved the other down to reach Sherlock's behind. Every time Sherlock's grip tightened on him he tightened on Sherlock. He moved his other hand to join his first. Sherlock moved his hand out and pushed Watson's pyjama's completely down,leaving Watson now naked before him.

The kiss stopped momentarily and Watson asked "how long have you been planning this?".

Sherlock shrugged and said "We all have dreams Watson..."

And as he said this Watson moved his hand up to Sherlock's shoulders. "Oh... Well I wouldn't want to interrupt yours" and pushed him forcefully down.

Sherlock resisted when he reached Watson's chest, and he ran his tongue around each of John's nipples. Watson moaned and Sherlock continued on his way down, running his tongue all the way. He reached what he had been imagining for such a long time, and it looked so much stronger in front of him. He ran his tongue along the top of Watson's shaft and at the head, stopped to blow on it lightly.

Watson shuddered as he felt the cool air against him. Sherlock moved his head beneath Watson and immersed Watson's two balls into him mouth, running his tongue along them each individually. Sherlock stopped and stood up and began to walk away... Watson stood mouth open and dry mouthed incapable of processing what had just happened.

He pulled his pyjamas up and began to walk through to his bedroom. Sherlock called him, and ran straight through to join him - "John, do you always run off when someone goes to get a condom?" Watson blushed but before he could open his mouth Sherlock had pushed down his pyjamas again, shoved him onto his bed and leapt on top of him.

Watson paused for a moment... "Sherlock, why am I the only one undressed?"

Sherlock looked at him, "I prefer you like this" he paused for a moment while running his fingers along John's chest. "So I got you like this, it's hardly rocket science."

Watson raised an eyebrow as he rolled over. Sherlock was now underneath him, they kissed once before Watson moved Sherlock down against the bed. Watson undid Sherlock's shirt buttons one at a time. He then moved both of his hands underneath Sherlock's shirt, running his fingers along muscles he didn't even imagine Sherlock had. He spent several minutes just feeling along his chest.

Sherlock looked at Watson as if to tell him to hurry and Watson pinched Sherlock's nipples lightly. He ran his hands downs Sherlock's chest before undoing his trouser buttons. Sherlock's boxers were being forced upwards and as Watson pushed down Sherlock's trousers with one hand he revealed his prize with the other.

Watson grabbed the condom, but before he placed it on himself Sherlock stopped him. "Ah, ah, ah... Not this time John, maybe next time" and he took it from his hand and placed it onto himself... "Today, it is my turn"

He pushed his own body forward causing Watson to topple backwards. He placed Watson's legs over his shoulders and applied some lubricant before forcing his way in. "John, Relax". Watson winced as Sherlock pushed further in but soon he relaxed. Sherlock could feel the warmth of Watson surround him as he thrusted. Each time he could hear a gasp for air come from Watson he pushed harder.

Watson was overwhelmed by Sherlock. He couldn't move his arms as the pleasure intensified. Sherlock stopped for a moment and kissed Watson, but started again with his whole body moving against Watson. He was getting closer to the edge so he thrust harder and harder.

Watson and Sherlock orgasmed in unison, moans escaping from both of them.

Watson awoke, once again sitting bolt upright. He saw no evidence of the night before, he walked through to the Kitchen and saw Sherlock and Mycroft at the table with a chessboard between them. Mycroft moved his pawn forward one space, "Sherlock, checkmate. Oh, and John... Please can you keep the nudity to when it's just the two of you".

Watson blushed and Mycroft left. Sherlock stood and came to hug Watson. He kissed him lightly. "Well, while you're not dressed... I think I know what I want to do..."


	10. Chapter 10

_**Sorry for the delay in this chapter being put up. I couldn't really think of how to follow the previous one. I hope this is okay though.**  
><em>

_The next day_

It was the first night in a long time that John had slept through the night without waking up even once. So when he woke up in the morning with a heavy weight pinning him to the bed, he wondered vaguely what had happened. Then it all washed over him, every second of what had happened, making his insides squirm pleasurablely.

'Sleep well?' came a gravelly voice from somewhere above him as Sherlock's face appeared in his line of vision.

'Yes.' said John, stretching slightly as Sherlock pressed a kiss to his lips and then recoiled. 'I believe this is what is called morning breath.' he said lightly.

'Well,' said John, 'it wouldn't be such a problem if you weren't lay on top of me, I can't get up'

He gave Sherlock a shove, and with surprisingly little effort, Sherlock rolled off him, freeing up John's arms and legs. John stood up gingerly, placing his weight onto his legs, he was incredibly sore and he felt like the muscles in his legs had dissolved. He winced as he walked forward, every step causing him pain but hell it had been worth it.

A snigger from the bed made him turn round. Sherlock was propped up on one elbow, a grin lazily playing round his lips.

'Oh belt up' said John heavily, 'its alright for you. Have you tried walking this morning?'

'I thought it would be prudent to observe how much agony you were in before I attempted to get up' said Sherlock, leaning back.

'Dick' said John calmly and went into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

When John had brushed his teeth and freshened up, he walked back into the room to see Sherlock sitting up cross-legged on the bed in only his blue silk dressing gown and frowning at his phone, running his hands absently through his hair.

'Not one single case' he said, moodily, stretching so the pale smooth skin of his chest was exposed, along with his surprisingly broad shoulders which John was amused to see were dotted with small red marks. 'I'm going to be so bored' As he spoke, he aimed his phone across the room and it bounced into the small armchair on the other side of the bedroom.

'I could probably amuse you' said John, sitting down next to Sherlock and grinning contentedly.

'John' said Sherlock. 'My face is up here'

'Oops.' John grinned. 'Sorry and if you're going to be so bored, go and see Lestrade, and I'll get the shopping'

'Yes. I guess seeing the look on Anderson's face when I solve the case before its given to me will be worth it.' he said, catching John in his arms and pulling him towards him, cradling the smaller man against his chest and kissing his hair.

'You're getting good at this' said John, peering up at his lover.

'Good at what?' said Sherlock, stopping his nuzzling of John's neck.

'This whole feelings thing' said John. 'You aren't a sociopath you know. You do know how to care for people'

'Ms Adler. She always said, alone would protect me.' Sherlock said.

'Well she was talking crap' John assured him. 'Friends protect you and I'm not going anywhere.'

He pressed his lips hard onto Sherlock and bit down on his lip, letting the feelings it evoked wash over him.

He pulled away a few minutes later and admired the beautiful high cheekbones, flushed red and long eyelashes.

'We're seriously out of milk,' he said, standing up. 'Please don't shoot any holes in the wall while I'm gone'

When John got back from the shop, he found Sherlock curled in his armchair in a purple silken shirt and black trousers, his fingers interlocked, staring at the opposite wall. John didn't even bother to ask what he was doing, he was far too used to Sherlock seemingly going into a trance to be too bothered any more.

'Moriaty' said Sherlock suddenly sitting up straight.

'What about him?' John asked, walking over to where Sherlock was sitting and tracing circles on to the back of his neck.

'HE sent Irene. He wants to discredit me, but I don't know HOW those photos will help him' Sherlock said, slapping his forehead in frustration.

'Hang on, you said those photos didn't bother you' said John, tentatively kissing Sherlock's hair. 'You said you didn't care'

'I don't care.' Said Sherlock quickly, looking up at John. ' I need to talk to Molly though, now'

'Why?' John asked curiously, as his detective stood up in one sweeping movement, his elegant form unfolding as he reached for his jacket.

'Explanations' muttered Sherlock. He considered John for a moment, 'maybe it would be best if you came too. One thing though'

And John was up against the door frame with Sherlock's mouth attached to his neck, the skilful tongue flicking down towards his collarbone.

'Couldn't resist' said Sherlock carelessly. 'That colour brings out your eyes' His own eyes raked over John's sweater in an approving manner, John shuddered under his gaze.

'Why couldn't you have decided this and text me?' John asked, his teeth chattering in the bitter wind. 'I could have just met you at Barts, where are all the bloody cabs today?'

'Here' said Sherlock, pulling John into the cab that had just stopped beside them. ' You are so un observant,'

The ride over to Barts was virtually silent. Sherlock was thinking, his eyes were pressed shut, his hands clenched on the seat beside him. Then it clicked, John realised why Sherlock had insisted they both go and see Molly.

'Oh god no' he said softly. 'Sherlock please. This isn't kind'

But Sherlock ignored him, pressing his fingers to his temple in an effort to maintain his concentration. John fell back in his seat, watching the London skyline fly past the window, trying not to think about what this was going to do to Molly.

The cab stopped at St Barts and the two men got out and as Sherlock made to walk towards the imposing hospital, John grabbed at his wrist.

'Don't do it like this. Sherlock, you'll hurt her, you don't understand how to be kind' he said, not letting Sherlock twist his hand out of his grip.

'Direct, visual explanations are kinder than emotion nonsense in the long run' said Sherlock calmly. 'Trust me. This needs to be done'

John rolled his eyes and followed Sherlock inside.

They tread the familiar path towards the morgue, to where Molly would be, working on the bodies. John hated doing this to her, he knew this wasn't the way he'd like to find out something like this.

'Oh hello' Molly said brightly as they entered. 'Lestrade didn't say you'd be down'

'No, I came of my own accord' said Sherlock, fixing Molly with an uncharacteristically sympathetic look. 'There's something you ought to know, well ought to see more accurately'

Molly looked slightly confused and rightly so.

'John, do you know what he's on about?' she asked, looking from Sherlock to John and back again.

John opened his mouth to say something but he found Sherlock attached to it, kissing him passionately and as always John couldn't help himself and kissed him back with as much enthusiasm as he could manage. After a few moments, a gasp brought them both back to reality, Molly was stood with her mouth open staring at the pair of them.

'You needed to know' said Sherlock softly, 'Before you wasted your time with any more silly affections'

'And you thought THAT was the way to tell me?' said Molly in a high pitched voice.'You are just unbelievable, I can't even...'

She cast the pair of them a disgusted look and fled from the room.

'Molly!' John yelled after her, 'Wait!' But it was too late, she'd vanished.

'Her reaction was a little extreme' said Sherlock, leaning back against a table. 'I didn't expect that.'

'She is in love with you' said John slowly, feeling slightly angry. 'And you just broke her heart. I warned you...you could have done it a million other ways'

John put his head in his hands and groaned.

'She won't let us back in here now. She'll hate us both' said John.

'Explain THAT to Scotland Yard'

Sherlock jerked his head up,

'What? She can't stop us coming in' Sherlock said, pulling his phone out.

'Yeah she can!' said John 'And she will unless you go and apologise'

'For helping her?' said Sherlock rolling his eyes.

Suddenly the door behind them crashed open and Molly walked in, her eyes red and watery, her hair askew.

'Get out!' she said, eyeing the two men. 'I never want to see you in here again'

John threw Sherlock a meaningful glance and walked towards Molly.

'I'm so sorry about what happened. That was Mr Insensitive over here, we should have just told you..' John attempted to console her but she threw him an incredibly nasty look.

'I said get out and don't come back. Tell Lestrade from me to not bother sending you down here again. Goodbye' she said, her voice breaking as she marched them out of the morgue and slammed the door behind them.


	11. Chapter 11

**Hi, hi. I've been so shit and not updated this in like a year, I feel so bad and you've all probably forgotten the story by now. (I nearly did) But here is a very short chapter 11 just to get me back into the swing of writing again! There will be more I promise.**

**Sorry again and I love you all! :) x**

'You're an absolute twat, you do know that right?' said John as they exited Bart's and hailed a cab. "You have effectively got us a lifelong ban from Bart's morgue, nice going Sherlock"

"And you think it would be better to keep stringing her along" Sherlock shot back at him as they jumped into the taxi. "Baker Street please"

John rolled his eyes, "No I don't but maybe you could have told her in a way that didn't result in us getting kicked out of the hospital."

Sherlock didn't reply for a minute and John turned to look at him, he looked genuinely guilty and slightly upset. John sighed and leant over to kiss his cheek.

"It's a good job I love you isn't it? But you do need to apologise to Molly ok?" he said, taking Sherlock's hand and squeezing it.

"Fine, I'll apologise. But only because you asked me to. I still think I was right." Sherlock replied.

"Of course you did." John smiled and hopped out of the taxi to unlock the door of 221B while Sherlock paid the cabbie. John didn't like him insisting on paying every time but there wasn't a lot he could do about it. Protesting hadn't worked. Sherlock was incredibly stubborn.

Back in the flat, Sherlock set about examining some of the petri dishes he'd left out the previous night, John didn't particularly want to know what was in them, they smelt slightly strange and seemed to be moving of their own accord. John took the opportunity to nip into the back bedroom where he stashed his clothes and books. They had no use for the second bedroom now of course. He rummaged through the top drawer of his bedside table, pushing aside socks and underwear to pull out a small black box, wrapped delicately in tissue paper, very tasteful.

He closed the drawer and headed back into the front room. Sherlock was still engrossed in his project, his tongue poking out from between his teeth as he worked, concentration etched into every crevice of his face, his eyes lighting up momentarily with a childlike excitement before narrowing again as he continued to investigate. John loved watching him work, he was completely absorbed and John got a glimpse into his unguarded side, the one he normally kept hidden. But Sherlock must have seen John come in because he turned round and smiled at him. His eyes fell on the box in John's hand. John held it out to him.

"Go on, open it. I want to see what you think" he said.

Sherlock took the box from him and opened it with genuine curiosity on his face.

"Oh John" he gasped, lifting the silver Rolex watch from the case and examining. "It's beautiful, thankyou. You needn't have gone to the trouble"

John grinned at him, pleased with his reaction. "I had to, since you dropped your last one in the Thames, you haven't been on time for anything. I was getting a bit sick of it"

Sherlock took two long strides towards John and kissed him lightly on the mouth.

"Mycroft was right. You're a keeper John Watson. _My_ blogger" he said, pulling away slightly. The possessive, slightly jealous way he said 'my' made something stir in John's groin as he yanked insistently on Sherlock's hand.


End file.
